LA MEZQUITA DAZZLES, A DAY EARLY

I already knew I was not going to get on the flight out of Madrid on the 18^th, so I changed my flight to the 17^th, and planned to drive back to Madrid with Ron, as his flight was leaving at 6AM on the 17^th. Nick was flying from Malaga, on the coast. We cleaned up the place, took a few last pictures, and were off.

Trust the coin-toss; fate was kind

Madrid was a good 500-600 km from Orgiva, so we were looking at a six-hour drive, at least. Ron and I toyed with the idea of going to Cordoba to see the Mezquita, a mosque built in 785 by Abd-ar-Rahman I (and a World Heritage Site) that had been partially refashioned into a cathedral. We hemmed and hawed about it, finally deciding with a flip of a coin at a gas station—we were going to chance it, even though it would take us more than 200km out of our way. We figured it out scientifically—if we didn’t reach point X by time Y, we’d turn around—long story short, we made it, and it was one of the highlights of my trip.

One difficulty—there were no directional signs to it in Cordoba, so we wandered for a while until we stopped at a gas station. Later, we figured out they were calling it “The Cathedral of Cordoba”, effectively erasing the most interesting thing about it—the Moorish architecture was absolutely stunning, and the church that was plunked down in the middle of the city-block-sized mosque was ho-hum, right down to the gilded receptacle for St. Vincent’s bits (that’s what makes a cathedral a cathedral—a saint’s sweetbreads or some other body part). The gory Christian sculptures added to the charm.

After soaking up the beauty of the place, we hit the road, with me at the wheel. I lead-footed it to Madrid, because I wanted to get there before dark so we could 1. Find the airport, 2. Find the car rental drop-off, 3. Find a hotel with a shuttle. Somehow, we managed to do all three, in spite of being heat-blasted and dozy. 
Ron discovered a Best Western-approved hotel (Hotel Villa de Barajas) in the nearby town. Decent rates (69 euros a night) and a free shuttle to the airport—for me, alas, not for him as he had to leave at 3AM. Across the street: a popular spot for tapas on the corner, and an excellent Chinese restaurant (I had severe vegetable need by that point--the noodle soup was served with a spoon, and the owner cut the noodles in the bowl into bite-sized pieces with two knives!). I got up with Ron to help wrestle his suitcase closed (he had been in Europe for six weeks at that point, and the elephantine size of his luggage reflected it), then hit the sack again after he left. 
The next morning, I went to the airport—it didn’t look good: I was #4 on the list, and there were two seats. Once again, my luck held; the first stand-by was seated, but the next two folks on the list were traveling as a team, and they decided to head for Barcelona to fly out of there together. I took the seat, next to a very nice professor of bioscience from Madrid (scientists seem to travel a lot), and was homeward bound once again.

Check out the video: https://vimeo.com/70760985

Day Four: Eat for Free!

Chime introduced us to the Metro—the crowding made Tokyo train cars look like empty warehouses—thank goodness for the first “ladies only” car, as we were back-to-bosom all the way. We all managed to rendezvous at the famous Chowri Bazar, a warren of shops and nameless alleys selling everything from street food to underwear. Nothing compares to this major visual overload. Chime does not like to shop: We literally ran down the street known locally as the wedding market; incredible beads, laces, and trims beyond gorgeous for those who made their own saris. I probably could have lingered there for a couple of days. Overhead, the electrical wiring was in itself a thing of wonderment. One power line was usually spliced into 20 others—in America, every power pole would have yellow hazard tape around it.

After our shopping-free sprint, we went to Jama Masjid, the most famous mosque in India, built by Shah Jahan in 1650. Four gates surround the courtyard of this huge and peaceful place, which can hold up to twenty-five thousand worshippers. Women in pants (most of us) and men in shorts were given either full body dresses or sarongs to wear, though we were allowed to refuse if we chose; women were asked to cover their heads and men were given caps.

A few blocks down the street, we paused in the waiting room of the Sikh Temple before washing our hands and feet in the fountains on the entry steps. Inside, we sat a few moments while the Sikh holy book (Guru Granth Sahib) was read (a continuous process that takes several days for each reading); the book is considered to be instruction on both the spiritual and material life of all Sikhs. Author Pearl Buck wrote these words in the introduction to a 1960 English translation of the Guru Granth Sahib: “I have studied the scriptures of the great religions, but I do not find elsewhere the same power of appeal to the heart and mind as I find here in these volumes. They are compact in spite of their length, and are a revelation of the vast reach of the human heart, varying from the most noble concept of God, to the recognition and indeed the insistence upon the practical needs of the human body. …They speak to a person of any religion or of none. They speak for the human heart and the searching mind.”

We were led to the communal kitchen where we joined other volunteers in food preparation, then ate lunch on the floor of a gymnasium-sized room, seated on 50-foot-long sisal mats. The lunch consisted of daal and chapattis served on tin plates; the temple feeds hundreds of people for free all day, every day.

Audience Hall of the vast Red Fort

Chime left us on our own after that, and we milled about like lost ducklings for a few minutes until several of us decided to go to the nearby Red Fort. 

For a World Heritage Site, the fort was ill maintained, a disappointment. Bamboo framework held up some of the structures and the gardens were untended. As Claudette, one of my troop pointed out, Europe was in the dark ages when the Red Fort was built; India lead the world in architecture, mathematics and astronomy. Now we see two men with sledgehammers busting up an ancient monument to stick an iron rod in it so they can build a bamboo scaffold to hold it up. Rumor has it that there are so many palms (and I don’t mean trees) being greased in political circles in Delhi and India that everything is sliding to ruin. The Red Fort was a sad example.

Josef and I decided to skip the group visit to yet another tomb and head for real coffee. We took the Metro to Connaught Place, the “British” part of town, found a Starbucks-like cafe, and enjoyed the first real caffeine hit of the trip. Espresso! Brownies! Yes! I fear I am one of those tourists I’ve make fun of, minus the socks and sandals. Wait…I did wear socks with sandals on the plane….

To see specific reviews of guides/travel companies, places to eat, stay and shop in India, see my custom guide to the golden triangle on GoGoBot.